


The aunt and the third-favourite historian

by fortytworedvines



Category: Holby City
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, beginning of established relationship, bernie's a historian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: Serena can’t believe how lucky she is when she wakes up in the arms of Jason’s third-favourite historian. And that historian, one Bernie Wolfe, wonders if she might have found the home she’s been looking for.Berena remix of Sevtacular'sshe stops my bones from wondering just who I am.





	The aunt and the third-favourite historian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevtacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/gifts).
  * Inspired by [she stops my bones from wondering just who I am](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066365) by [sevtacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/pseuds/sevtacular). 

> This fic is set in the missing year at the end of Sev's fic, charting the journey Bernie and Serena take from the morning after their first date to having moved in together. 
> 
> Sev, I hope I've done you and Jason justice! 
> 
> (There's one (1) Cabin Pressure reference hidden in here, points to anybody who spots it.)

Serena wakes, slowly, pleasurably, to the feel of gentle fingers mapping her back. She opens her eyes, blinks sleepily. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

Bernie’s eyes are bright with happiness and Serena thinks how funny life is, that she’s waking up next to Jason’s third-favourite historian, how wonderful it would be to wake up like this every day.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” Bernie shakes her head and Serena glances at the clock and smiles. “Me neither, and Jason won’t be expecting breakfast for half an hour or so.” She pushes back the bedcovers slightly, trails her fingers along Bernie’s arm, across her collarbones. Last night she discovered just how much she liked them and there’s a red strawberry mark blooming on Bernie’s pale skin.

“However will we pass the time?” Bernie asks with a grin as Serena’s hand slips lower, takes full advantage of the fact that they’re naked.

“I have a few ideas,” Serena murmurs, closing the small space between them and kissing Bernie sweetly.

“Good morning Aunty Serena, good morning Major Wolfe,” Jason says as they appear, sheepishly, hand in hand and Bernie in yesterday’s clothes, in the kitchen.

“Just Bernie, please,” Bernie says and is rewarded with a wide smile.

“I put the coffee on,” Jason says. “This is my seat and this is Aunty Serena’s. You can sit here, Major Bernie.” He pulls out the chair next to Serena’s and Bernie subsides into it gracefully.  
“Thank you, Jason.”

“We usually have pancakes on Sundays. Do you like pancakes, Major Bernie?”

Serena is already getting the necessary ingredients from the cupboard, places the flour on the side and turns. “You don’t have to have pancakes, Bernie. There’s plenty of other things if you’d rather.”

“Pancakes sound lovely,” Bernie says.

“It’s American ones, because they’re better for breakfast. Aunty Serena makes them very well and I’m learning too.”

Serena is making up the batter, not really thinking about anything other than the pleasurable ache in her thighs, nearly drops the whisk when Jason suddenly says, “Are you Aunty Serena’s girlfriend now?”

Through sheer force of will, Serena doesn’t whirl round to stare at Bernie. Whisks a little more forcefully as she waits for Bernie’s response.

“We haven’t had that conversation yet, Jason,” Bernie’s voice is calm, “But I would like to be.” There’s a questioning note there and now Serena does turn, meets Bernie’s gaze over the table. Bernie smiles at her, softly and lovingly and Serena’s heart flips over. “Yes,” she says fervently and Bernie laughs.

“Well, there you are then Jason. Yes, I am your aunty’s girlfriend.”

After breakfast Serena wants nothing more than to pull Bernie back to her room, to spend countless more hours exploring her body, but she can’t really do that in the middle of the day with Jason home. (She makes a mental note to find some more interesting exhibitions that Jason can attend with Alan.) Instead, they all end up in the living room. Jason settles into the armchair, forgoing the sofa so that Serena and Bernie can sit cuddled together, fingers tangled and heads close.

“I missed Countdown last night,” Jason says as he turns the television on.

“I like Countdown,” Bernie says.

“Good, you can be Jason’s competition.” Serena finishes with a badly disguised yawn.

“Tired, are you? Can’t think why,” Bernie squeezes her fingers gently.

Serena snorts a laugh and Jason shoots her a look. “You have to be quiet, Aunty Serena, if Major Bernie and I are going to watch properly. You need paper and a pen, Bernie.”

It’s the first time he’s ever dropped her title and Bernie feels a rush of warmth. She likes Jason, has liked him from the moment he declared she was his third favourite historian. And, Serena admitted last night, he was the reason that she’d even met Serena again. She takes the pen and paper that he hands her, curls her legs up on the sofa. Serena leans against her, rests her head against her shoulder. Bernie loves that she’s happy to do this in front of Jason, loves that she’s been incorporated so easily into their morning. This must be what home feels like.

Bernie eventually leaves, reluctantly, after lunch. It’s been a slow, relaxed morning. Jason was determined to take full advantage of her presence, started a re-watch of her first series. She enjoyed filling him on the little pieces of information here and there that didn’t make the final edit, was slightly startled when Jason pulled out a thick notebook and scribbled notes as she spoke.

“He’s quite the student,” Serena said as Bernie gaped at her.

“Do you do this with all the documentaries you watch?” Bernie asked curiously.

Jason considered for a moment. “Not all of them, just the most interesting ones.”

“You’ll have to help me out with some research on my next one,” Bernie said casually, then bit her lip uncertainly at this future she had imagined for them, relaxed as Serena pressed a gentle hand into hers.

“That sounds fun,” Jason remarked, unaware of the undercurrent.

Now Bernie stops on the doorstop. “You’ll come to mine Tuesday night, then?”

“It’s a date.” Serena’s lips find hers, fleetingly. “I’ll try to escape work on time.”

* * *

Serena does not escape work on time. Ends up being dragged into theatre for an op only an hour before the end of her shift. She sends a quick text to Bernie as she changes into her scrubs, explaining, sighs as she throws her phone back into her locker. But that is the peril of being a surgeon, and if she has to miss her date at least its for surgery rather than paperwork.

She returns to her locker, weary, three hours later. She checks her phone and Bernie has replied, but instead of a regretful suggestion to reschedule, Bernie suggests that whatever the time is when Serena leaves, she goes over.

Serena considers her watch. It’s late, but not ridiculously late. Plenty of time for a meal and a glass of wine before she’d have to get home. “I’m coming over now,” she sends, and a pleasurable thrill runs through her.

“You look chipper,” Ric remarks as she speeds past him in the car park.

“Date!” she calls back as she slips into her car.

Bernie’s place is easy enough to find. She answers the door at Serena’s ring and Serena forgets to breathe for a second because Bernie is stunning.

“Coming in?”

Serena closes her mouth sharply. “Uh, yes. Of course.”

“I thought you might fancy a takeaway, after that shift. I’ve got it keeping warm in the oven and there’s a glass of Shiraz waiting for you in the living room.” Bernie pushes her gently in the right direction and Serena subsides gratefully onto the sofa, takes a blissful sip of wine.

“That’s the stuff.” She glances around the living room curiously. It’s minimalist, not much in the way of ornaments and Serena thinks it suits Bernie. There’s a bookcase in the corner which looks almost like its sagging under the weight of the books on it. There’s a lot of military history, obviously, but Serena is amused to see a few children’s books scattered through it.

Bernie comes in with her own glass of wine, sits down next to Serena so that their arms are brushing and their thighs touching. “Oh yes, my books. I should probably sort them, but I quite like having them all mixed up.”

“That’s a lot of Horrible History books.”

“Well, it’s history _and_ funny. Perfect combination.”

“Oh, I see.” Serena looks at the bookshelf again. “And Harry Potter.”

Bernie laughs, “My guilty pleasure.”

They eat the takeaway out of the containers, in the living room. “I should be trying to impress you,” Bernie says ruefully. “Candles and fancy cutlery.”

“Not necessary, Major. And this saves on washing up.”

After she’s taken the empty containers through to the kitchen, Bernie tops up their glasses again. “No, no, I have to drive home,” Serena murmurs wearily. Her eyes are heavy and Bernie is _so_ comfortable.

“Stay?” Bernie suggests.

“I have work tomorrow.”

“You’re tired. Might as well go to bed here and get an extra half hour.”

Serena looks at Bernie’s smile and laughs. “Will I?”

“I’ll be good, if you want me to be.”

“What a convincing argument. I’ll let Jason know not to expect me.”

“Will he mind?”

Serena looks at her sidelong. “I mentioned it was a possibility that I might stay out.”

“Oh, did you?”

Serena elbows her. “Take that grin off your face.”

Bernie’s bed is _heaven_. Serena has brushed her teeth and changed into the nightie that she packed in her handbag just in case, and is now lying between the sheets in what might be the comfiest bed she’s ever been in. Bernie’s having a quick shower and Serena thinks she’ll just shut her eyes for a second, just till Bernie’s out.

Bernie steps out of her bathroom to the sound of quiet snoring. Serena is tucked up in her bed, curled up and fast asleep. She looks utterly adorable and Bernie’s heart clenches. This isn’t precisely how she’d hoped their evening might go, but damn if it doesn’t feel right. She slips carefully into bed, leans across to brush a soft kiss to Serena’s forehead.

“Goodnight, love,” she whispers and turns out the light.

Bernie’s bed continues to be incredibly comfortable for at least half an hour after Serena is supposed to be awake. She finally wakes to Bernie prodding her.

“Serena, wake up!”

“Urmf?” Serena turns over, blinking sleepily to see Bernie, propped up on one elbow and eyeing her worriedly.  
“We didn’t set an alarm. What time’s your shift?”

Serena is bolt upright in a second. “Eight.”

“You’ve got half an hour,” Bernie says, scrambling out of bed and into her dressing gown. “I’ll get coffee on.”

Serena washes quickly, throws on her clothes and arrives in the kitchen to be handed a fresh mug of hot coffee.

“Do you have time for breakfast? Toast?”

Serena nods and sits down. Bernie’s kitchen is small and serviceable, although not as neat as Serena might have expected for an ex-soldier. Bernie herself is looking delicious, blonde hair tousled and dressing gown half off her shoulders.

“I wish I didn’t have to go in,” Serena says, trying to quell the desire to push Bernie back against a counter and kiss her senseless.

Bernie grins at her, “Me too.”

Serena arrives at work with a bounce in her step. Bernie had kissed her very thoroughly before she’d left and they’ve arranged another date for Friday night – and Serena isn’t working on Saturday. She almost floats across the car park.

“Your date went well then?” Ric remarks as they meet at the lift. Serena raises her eyebrow. “Same clothes,” he says with a grin.

“Oh shush.” She glances away sheepishly, then laughs. “Yes, it did.”

* * *

Friday night is fish and chip night at Serena’s house. Jason is very happy that Major Bernie is coming round again; that means that she and Aunty Serena really like each other. He has already offered to go to his room after Countdown and put on his noise cancelling headphones. Aunty Serena blushed a lot when he said that but then agreed that maybe it would be a good idea. He likes how happy his Aunty is these days. She’s barely grumbled about work all week.

Bernie arrives with a bottle of Shiraz and a smile. Over their fish and chips she and Jason discuss her television series and Serena watches them both with a glow in her heart.

“Have you got another series planned, Bernie?” Jason asks as he picks up his pickled egg.

“Not a series. It’s a bit different; I’ve been asked to write a book about interesting women in history.” She frowns slightly. “It’s not really my area, and its going to be aimed at children, not adults.”

“Oh. That’s a pity, I like seeing you on TV, you’re a really good presenter. And Aunty Serena likes watching you too.”

Serena blushes and Bernie laughs. “Well, maybe if the book does well then I’ll get to make a series out of it too. But I have to write it first.”

“Why don’t I help? You can read it to me when you’re writing it and I’ll tell you if the language and concepts get too difficult.”

“Jason had all the Horrible History books too,” Serena adds, “So he might be quite useful.”

Bernie looks from aunty to nephew. “Thank you, Jason.”

“It’s no problem,” Jason says, “I like listening to you talk.”

Bernie smothers a grin, “That’s very kind of you.”

It’s only the third time that she and Bernie have shared a bed, but Serena can’t help but think how normal it feels. In deference to Jason, they have forgone any interesting activities downstairs and now Serena is lying in her bed listening to the sounds of the tap running as Bernie finishes her bedtime routine. As Jason has been kind enough to reiterate his plan to wear noise cancelling headphones and also earplugs when he goes to bed, she is entirely naked.

Bernie comes out of the bathroom wearing an old t-shirt. It’s baggy and faded, hangs off one shoulder and drops to her thighs and makes her look incredible.

“Mmm,” Serena says as Bernie slips in beside her.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bernie teases, reaches out to draw Serena close. “You’re naked,” she murmurs and Serena sighs as soft fingers explore her ribs.

“Yes,” Serena agrees.

Bernie slips one long leg between Serena’s. “My favourite kind of Serena.”

“I’m… I’m not really sure what to make of that,” Serena murmurs as she tilts her head to allow Bernie to kiss her neck, runs her fingers up Bernie’s back.

Bernie stops any further conversation by kissing her thoroughly.

* * *

It’s the week between Christmas and New Year. Bernie and Serena have been dating for three months, Serena has wangled herself actual leave, and they are in a cottage on the Isle of Wight. With Jason, of course. Carisbrooke Castle is featuring in the book that Bernie is writing and she is using that as an excuse for the holiday. The cottage is lovely, all warm grey stone and winter roses, and a particularly nice feature is the two bedrooms being at opposite ends of the building. Bernie and Serena are spending their days exploring the island, hand in hand, with windswept hair and rosy cheeks and their evenings in a frankly luxurious bed.

Jason accompanies them when they visit the castle; he’s fascinated by the history of course but also wants to see the famous castle donkeys. They watch one donkey walk the huge wheel to lift water from the well. Jason had been a little concerned about how hard the work was but the guide assures them the donkeys are only allowed to work for a couple of minutes a day. Then they head to the little museum in the castle. Slightly obscurely, there is a display about the local girl guides, complete with old uniforms. Serena halts Bernie with a grin.

“That’s what I wore, back in the day.”

“You were a guide?” Bernie looks slightly astonished.

“Naturally. Weren’t you?”

“Cadets was more my thing.”

There is a shout from Jason, in the next room. “Aunty Serena, Bernie, look what I’ve found!”

What Jason has found is a series of hats from the main historical eras of the castle, all set out for visitors to try on.

“Look Aunty Serena, does it suit me?” He’s pulled on a chainmail coif.

“Maybe not quite your thing,” Serena says with a laugh. “Is it as heavy as it looks?”

“Heavier than I was expecting,” he confirms, taking it off. “Aunty Serena, try this one,” he passes her a medieval lady’s headdress in deep purple.

“Very fetching,” Bernie says, “I can see you ordering your peasants about.”

“Just like an average day at the hospital.”

“This one for you, Bernie.” Jason passes her a cavalier hat, complete with jaunty feather. She pulls it on, strikes a pose, hand on an imaginary sword at her hip.

“Now, _that_ is a good look. I can just imagine you riding up on a horse, all gallant and chivalrous.”

Bernie doffs her hat with a sweeping bow. “At your service, my lady,” she grins.

Serena dips a curtsey. “Good sir.”

“You’re several hundred years apart,” Jason points out as they collapse on each other with laughter.

Serena chokes down her laughs, wipes her eyes. “Nevertheless. That is a good look, Bernie.”

“Shall I take a photo?” Jason offers.

“Oh, why not.” Serena pulls Bernie’s arms around her and Bernie rests her chin on Serena’s shoulder, and Jason takes a photo on his phone. Serena makes a note to get him to send it to her; that’s definitely one for her instagram.

They head into the gardens next, Bernie and Serena strolling arm-in-arm.

“Who are you writing about here, Bernie?” Jason asks as he follows them.

“Oh. Um, a woman called Isabella de Fortibus. She lived here in the thirteenth century.”

“Did she do anything interesting?”

“She did a lot of building work and made some gardens. These gardens in fact,” she points at the gate they’re about to go through.

“She didn’t get besieged at all then?” Jason asks, disappointed.

Bernie eyes his sceptical impression. “Maybe not the most interesting candidate for my book?”

“Well, some people are interested in gardens,” Jason says politely and Bernie laughs.

“I’ll rethink that chapter then.”

Nobody hurries out of bed on their last morning. Serena wakes, as seems customary now, to Bernie’s fingers gentle on her skin. “Morning, darling,” she says.

Bernie leans in to kiss Serena, makes it leisurely, caressing her lips. Serena pulls her closer so their bodies are flush against each other, opens her mouth to Bernie’s tongue.

“There’s no rush, is there?” Bernie murmurs as she pulls from Serena’s mouth to kiss down her neck.

“None at all,” Serena sighs.

Sometime later they are sprawled across the bed, legs entangled and hearts beating fast. Bernie grasps for Serena’s hand, raises it to her lips and kisses her palm. “I love you.”

Serena smiles at her, happy to hear the words for the first time, yet utterly unsurprised. “Oh darling, I know. I love you too.”

* * *

“Good break?” Ric queries as Serena hops onto the barstool next to him.

“Yes, thanks. I spent it with Jason and my – my partner.”

“Lucky man,” Ric says off-handedly as he signals for a glass of wine for her.

Serena is suddenly overcome with the need to divulge the information she has kept strictly private for three months and she sips her wine, takes a breath, says, “It’s not – not a man.”

Ric’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! I wasn’t expecting that. Who’s the lucky lady, then?”

“She’s called Bernie. Bernie Wolfe.”

Ric’s eyebrows can’t get any higher. “Bernie Wolfe the television historian? The blonde? With the legs that go on for days? _That _Bernie Wolfe?”

Serena can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. “Yes.”

Ric whistles softly. “Wow. Well, I’m happy for you.”

“Do you mind keeping it quiet? It’s just – well – she _is_ famous and we’d rather not have reporters following us around.”

“No, no I don’t mind at all.” Ric pauses thoughtfully for a second, asks casually, “Why don’t you bring her along to the pub sometime?”

“I’m not going to bring her here just so you can ogle her.”

“I’d keep the ogling to a minimum, promise.”

“Why don’t I believe you? Anyway, I think I’ll wait a little longer before subjecting the hot, famous girlfriend to the dubious work colleagues.”

“Who are you calling dubious? May I remind you who helped you get that Christmas leave in the first place?!”

Serena laughs. “Well, I’ll think about it.”

* * *

“How long is Bernie away for?” Jason asks as he puts his knife and fork down on his empty plate.

“Another two weeks. Put those in the dishwasher please.”

“I know, Aunty Serena,” Jason says patiently. “Do you miss her?”

Serena bites back the sharp reply that springs to her lips. “Yes, I do. Very much.” She sighs a little. Jason clears her plate as well as his and she smiles softly at him. “Thank you Jason. I’m sorry I’m being a bit grumpy.” And then her phone buzzes and Bernie’s picture flashes up on the screen.

“If I’ve timed this right, you’ve just finished dinner.”

“Oh Bernie, yes. Perfect timing. We were just talking about you.”

“Can you put her on loudspeaker please? I’d like to talk to her too.”

“Do you mind, Bernie?”

“Not at all.”

Serena adjusts the phone, looks at the hard kitchen chairs and then grabs her waiting glass of wine and ushers Jason through to the living room. “We’re just going into the living room Bernie.”

“Let me guess, your glass of shiraz is going with you?”

“I’ve been meaning to speak to Aunty Serena about her drinking habits, Bernie. Since you’ve been away she’s been consuming twice as much alcohol. I don’t think that’s healthy, do you?”

There’s a pause and Serena eyes her nephew. She didn’t think she’d been drinking that much more than usual but he’s not generally wrong about these things. Maybe this will be her only glass tonight.

“I don’t think that’s the sort of thing we should talk about right now,” Bernie says after a moment. “Why don’t I tell you about the woman I’ve been researching? You can tell me if she’s interesting enough for my book.”

This works as a distraction. “Yes please. Who is she?”

“Well.”

There’s a shuffling noise and Serena imagines Bernie sinking into a comfy, over-stuffed armchair. She wishes she was there too.

“Her name is Nicolaa de la Hay. The Nicolaa is spelt with two a’s, which is a bit confusing. She lived in the thirteenth century and she single-handedly repelled a French seige.”

“Single handedly? Really?” Jason is leaning forward with interest.

“It was in the reign of King John and he was being useless – don’t quote me on that – and she was beseiged and won.”

There’s a spark in Bernie’s voice and Serena can tell that this woman has really caught her imagination.

“Did she have a castle? Have you seen it?”

“It’s being used as a prison at the moment Jason, so I’ve not been able to go in. I’ve contemplated getting myself arrested so I can have a look round.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea. What else do you know about her?”

“Perhaps not. She was the castellan of Lincoln castle, sheriff of Lincolnshire, and outlived two husbands.” There’s a note of glee in her voice at this point.

Serena lets Bernie’s voice drift over her. The enthusiasm with which she describes Nicolaa would have Serena worried, if she hadn’t lived eight hundred years ago. Jason is clearly enthralled too and he and Bernie have been talking for a while when Bernie eventually calls the historical discussion to a halt.

“It’s been lovely chatting Jason, but do you think I could have your aunty to myself now?”

Jason sighs but nods, then remembers Bernie can’t see him. “I’ll go upstairs. Goodnight, Bernie.”

“Goodnight Jason.”

Jason leaves and Serena picks up the phone, switches the volume back to normal and cradles it to her ear. “Hello, you.”

Bernie sighs and briefly it’s like she’s there beside her. “I miss you, Serena,” she says abruptly.

“I miss you too. Thank you for calling.”

“I should have done before, I’m sorry. It was rubbish of me.”

“The phone works both ways,” Serena points out, “I could have called you too. Are you okay?”

There’s a brief pause. “I’ve been better.”

Bernie is lying on her bed, imagining Serena. She’s been away for two weeks so far, that’s all, and some of her pre-Serena life is creeping back in; she’s drinking far too much coffee, not sleeping enough and jumping at loud noises. It’s not quite PTSD, was never bad enough to require treatment and since she and Serena have been together, since she’s had something that’s felt a little like home, she’s been much less self-destructive. She’s been trying to throw herself into her research and it is fascinating and she is enjoying it but there’s a constant ache, her absence from Serena niggling at her. She should have called her days ago but she was trying to be – tough, perhaps? The big macho soldier that she ought to be.

“Do you want me to come and visit?” Serena asks after a moment in which Bernie has not elaborated.

“What?” Bernie’s startled out of her reverie, barely catches what Serena said.

“It was just a thought, doesn’t matter.”

Serena stumbles to backtrack and Bernie breaks in before she can go on. “That would be wonderful Serena, could you? I’ll show you the sights. When can you come?”

Bernie can hear Serena chewing her lip thoughtfully. “I’ll wangle things with Ric and be with you in two days. What _are_ the sights in Lincoln? You seem to have been busy falling in love with your Nicolaa.”

Bernie laughs, her spirits rising with a bound. “She’s fascinating! And as for the sights, there’s a fantastic view from the top of the cathedral.”

“The top? Does that involve a lot of climbing?”

“Not too much,” Bernie assures her. She wriggles down into her bed, smiles up at the ceiling. “So, what have you been up to?”

* * *

Jason’s birthday is coming up and Bernie has an idea. She’s barely taken any advantage yet of the fact that she is, somehow, now relatively famous and she thinks now might be the time. She brings it up to Serena one night when they are lying in bed, Serena’s head nestled against hers, holding her tightly.

“What do you think?” she asks, uncertainly, “Would he enjoy it?”

“You’d make his year,” Serena says with certainty.

Bernie bites her lip. “I – I wouldn’t want to come swooping in and – uh – step on your toes.”

Serena strokes Bernie’s lip with her thumb, coaxing her mouth open a little. “Don’t be silly. Jason doesn’t think like that, he’ll be thrilled with whatever presents he gets.”

Bernie catches Serena’s thumb in her mouth, nips the soft pad with her teeth and grins as Serena sighs. “Good to know. I’ll see what I can sort out then.” She lets Serena’s thumb slide out of her mouth, rolls them over so Serena is pinned beneath her, every inch of the length of their bodies touching, kisses the sensitive spot at the base of her neck.

“Bernie,” Serena groans and her fingers find Bernie’s hair to pull gently.

“Once more before bed?” Bernie asks as she kisses down Serena’s body.

“Just once?”

After numerous phone calls and emails to organise it all, Bernie is almost as excited as Jason when he opens his presents on his birthday morning.

“You’ve had enough caffeine, I think,” Serena murmurs, pressing a steadying hand to Bernie’s shoulder as she moves past her.

Jason leaves the small envelope to last, opens it curiously. Bernie’s told him that this is a clue as to today’s activities. “Train tickets to London.” He looks between Bernie and Serena. “That’s nice. Why?”

“We’re going to the British Museum,” Bernie says, “All of us.”

Jason nods and smiles, “That will be fun.”

The train journey isn’t long. Jason is listening to music through his new, very expensive headphones (Serena’s present) and Bernie and Serena hold hands and smile at each other and Serena feels ridiculously in love.

When they reach the museum, Bernie takes the lead. “I thought we’d start with the Greek and Roman galleries.”

Jason has no objection and walks next to her, talking animatedly about the exhibits there. Serena follows them both, wondering when she’s been happier. They reach the gallery and it’s empty apart from one woman at the far end. Jason grabs Bernie’s arm suddenly. “Bernie! That’s Mary Beard! My second-favourite television historian!”

“I know,” Bernie says, “Come on.”

They meet Mary Beard half way down the gallery. “Hello, Bernie,” she says and holds out her hand to Jason, “You must be Jason.”

Jason shakes her hand then frowns at Bernie. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“Happy Birthday, Jason,” Bernie says and then lets out a startled _oof_ as Jason hugs her ferociously.

Mary watches with a smile, then says to Jason, “I thought we’d start over here.”

Serena subsides onto a bench, sits there comfortably as Jason and Mary make their way slowly around the gallery, Jason completely engrossed and with the biggest smile on his face.

Bernie sits next to her. “I think he’s happy.”

Serena finds her hand and squeezes tight. “Thank you,” she says fervently and then, to her embarrassment, a tear trickles down her cheek.

“What’s this?” Bernie wipes it away gently.

“I just – I – he’s so happy, I’m happy, and it’s all thanks to you. You’re amazing, Bernie.”

“I’m not and you know it,” Bernie says and kisses Serena sweetly. “But you deserve to be happy, Serena. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Serena sniffs damply and lets Bernie pull her in close, rests her head on her shoulder as they watch Jason enjoy his birthday surprise.

* * *

“Countdown tonight?” Bernie asks and Jason shakes his head.

“It’s Eurovision,” he says with satisfaction.

Serena hands Bernie a cup of coffee, leans over the back of the sofa to wrap her arms around her shoulders and press a kiss to her head. “Did I forget to tell you?”

“You did. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever watched it. Is it better than Countdown?” There’s a spark of laughter in her voice that Jason catches and he smiles.

“There are a lot more points. It’s very long though, so I don’t mind if you and Aunty Serena want to go to bed before it finishes.”

Serena splutters but Bernie manages a polite smile. “Thank you, Jason, that’s very thoughtful of you.”

Bernie finds herself drawn irresistibly into the noisy, chaotic spectacle that is Eurovision. She hoots at Graham Norton’s sardonic commentary, gasps at the stunts pulled by some of the performers, listens appreciatively to Jason’s notes – he’s watched some of the earlier rounds as well and provides as much useful information as Graham. More useful, frequently.

“You’re more fun to watch with than Aunty Serena,” Jason says at about midnight, when Serena is yawning, head in Bernie’s lap with Bernie’s hands stroking her hair mindlessly.

“I like it,” Serena protests tiredly, “I’m still here, aren’t I? I even have a favourite song.” Her eyes are closing again almost before she’s finished speaking.

“What is it?” Bernie asks.

“It’s not a proper song,” Jason says sternly, “It’s the one the presenters sang in 2016, in Sweden. It is very catchy though.”

“If you’re not Eurovision-ed out I’ll show you tomorrow,” Serena mumbles into Bernie’s thigh. “It’s hilarious.”

It’s late – early, really – when Serena stumbles off to bed. Bernie ought to follow her but one of the perks of having sent off her book to the publisher is that there is no need to get up in the morning. She knows Serena won’t begrudge her this time spent with Jason so she stays as the results begin to come in.

“How many points do you think we’ll get, Bernie?”

Bernie considers. The UK had what seemed like a decent song with interesting staging. She hazards a guess. “Maybe… forty points?” Jason conceals a small grin. “What did I say?” she demands.

Jason shakes his head. “Wait and see.”

Bernie does see, slightly incredulously, and the UK ends up with three points. It’s been worse, apparently, but she still feels a little sad as she drags her exhausted self upstairs and climbs carefully into Serena’s bed.

“’sit over?”

“Didn’t mean to wake you. Yes.”

“Come here.” Serena pulls Bernie into her, curls around her and Bernie hums with satisfaction.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now shush.”

Bernie sits bleary-eyed at the breakfast table, half-wearing Serena’s dressing gown, the next morning. Serena looks at her unsympathetically. “You didn’t have to stay up,” she points out, although she relents enough to pass Bernie a steaming mug. “Here you go, nice hot cup of coffee”.

“Thanks,” Bernie murmurs as she cradles it in her hands.

Serena checks her watch. “I have to be at the hospital in fifteen minutes, do you want me to drop you off on my way in?”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Not kind,” Serena retorts, “If I let you walk in that state you’ll end up asleep in a gutter somewhere.”

“Morning,” Jason says from the door and Serena jumps.

“Will you make more noise please?”

“Sorry,” he says. “Can I have some coffee too please?” Serena pours him a cup and he sits down at the table and looks at the two of them with what Bernie has deemed his ‘thinking’ expression.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“Why don’t you live with us?” It’s safe to say that neither woman was expecting this and in their mutual stunned silence, he continues. “You and Aunty Serena have been dating exclusively for eight months, you’re here more often than not. It makes sense for you to move in. We have plenty of space and you won’t be paying to rent a flat you’re barely living in. And then you won’t have to worry about getting home, or Aunty Serena having to take spare clothes with her when she stays over with you after work. And it’d be nice, I think.”

“Oh, well…” Serena looks over at Bernie, speaks a little tentatively, “He’s made some good arguments. What do you think?”

“I’d – I’d,” Bernie stares at her, wide-eyed.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Aunty Serena, would you like Bernie to live here?”

Serena relaxes a little. “Yes, I would.”

“Bernie, would you?”

“Yes,” Bernie says softly and Serena covers her hand, squeezes tight.

“That’s sorted then,” Jason says with satisfaction, and sips his coffee.

Bernie turns her hand over so she can catch Serena’s fingers with her own. “I do have one stipulation though.”

“Oh?”

“We bring my bed here.”

Serena laughs. “Done.”

* * *

Bernie is deep in research for her next television project when the publishers send her the first copy of her book. She snatches it out of a very surprised postman’s hands, rips the packaging open to inspect it.

It’s perfect; glossy and colourful, lots of pictures. She picks a page at random to read and doesn’t cringe at all. And, wonderfully, it has arrived on Serena’s birthday, so she runs upstairs to wrap it and then places it on the table with the other gifts that she and Jason have bought.

Serena’s been at work since an ungodly hour of the morning so they’re celebrating in the evening. She accepts a paper hat with equanimity, enjoys the dinner that Bernie and Jason have cooked (and they’re doing the washing up too) before turning her attention to the small pile of presents waiting for her.

There’s the customary bottle of Shiraz and a new stethoscope in the mix. She leaves the small rectangular package to last, opens it curiously.

“Bernie! Your book! It looks amazing!”

“It does, doesn’t it.” There’s a hint of smugness in Bernie’s voice but Serena thinks she’s probably earned it. “Open it,” Bernie urges and Serena flicks it open.

And there, right before the title page, is Bernie’s dedication.

_To Jason, for asking all the right questions._

_And to Serena, my home._


End file.
